


Just Trying To Stay Alive

by LaurenE16



Series: Ellie Lives With A Serial Killer [2]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Anxiety, Begging, Blood, F/M, Fingering, He Kept You, Is It Steak?, Kidnapping, No Beta, Panic, Questionable Fridge Contents, Rape, She Picks The Drill, Smut, Torture, lots of blood, pretty self-indulgent, so much pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenE16/pseuds/LaurenE16
Summary: Prologue to Alive, I guess?How did Ellie end up with Strade?Pretty much a play through of the game, some things changed here and there, but a lot of it will look familiar. Does not follow the route exactly. It's self-induglent, I'll be honest. I got a couple of nice comments on my first post, so I thought I'd put on my big girl panties and post again.I love Strade so much. It's a problem.
Relationships: Protagonist/Strade (Boyfriend to Death), Strade (BTD/TNR)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Ellie Lives With A Serial Killer [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683841
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter One

My head was absolutely pounding when I finally came to. The first thing I noticed was the kind of sickening metallic smell in the air followed by the fact that my wrists were secured behind me and I was leaning against a steel pole. It seemed like one those standard poles in everyone's basement.

When I eventually managed to open my eyes, there wasn't much to see. It was dark as hell. I could make out general shapes of items in the space due to the slightly displaced window curtain allowing the moonlight to shine through. It was definitely a basement. There were stairs in front of me to the left, a workbench directly in front of me with a full set of tools hanging neatly, a mounted circular buzz saw next to the stairs and a fridge against the right wall. Where the hell was I?

I remembered going to the Braying Mule so I could pretend I wasn't a complete loser with no friends and who regularly drinks alone. I met a man... An attractive, rugged kind of man named Strade. We had a really good talk, and it felt amazing to have someone notice me. It had been so long. I think it was around last call that I said I had to go to the bathroom and then head home, it was getting late.

_I went to the bathroom at the back of the building, it was a two stall with a single sink and a dirty mirror. Pretty par for the course for a place like that. I had just washed my hands and was wiping them dry with a paper towel when the door opened. I turned and Strade was standing there, his eyes narrowed and a smile on his face. But it wasn't the warm, friendly one he'd been using all night. This one... Scared me._

_“What are you doing?” I demanded, trying to sound tough. He couldn't do anything in a public bathroom, right?_

_Strade reached behind him and then flashed a large hunting knife at me, holding it threateningly in front of him. Shit. He was standing between me and the door, and I wouldn't be able to reach my phone without him noticing. “You're going to come with me.”_

_“I'm not going anywhere with you.” I argued, stalling for the time, hoping someone else would come into the bathroom._

_“I wasn't asking, schatzi,” He took a step towards me and I took one back. This continued for a step or two until my back pressed against the wall, but he kept coming until I felt the tip of his blade press into my stomach. I sucked in a breath, trying to tamp down my panic. Was I going to die in a fucking bathroom? “We're going out the patio door, and you're not going to say anything, or this is going into your kidney. Got it?”_

_What else could I do? I nodded quickly and breathed a sigh of relief when the pressure went away. Strade gestured for me to walk forward and I did, immediately feeling him at my back, the knife again pressing lightly into me. If I tried anything, he'd take me down with him... I wasn't ready for that. Fuck._

_The patio was empty because of the rain and he was easily able to maneuver me out to the parking lot without anyone seeing. He led me towards an expensive looking SUV and a moment later, the lights flashed as he pressed the button to unlock the car. “Get in.”_

_I could scream. This would be the time, we were outside, I could run, and someone could hear me. I opened my mouth to do just that, but it was like he was in my mind. He spun me and pressed a hand against my mouth, effectively shutting me up. “Choose wisely, Ellie. Come quietly, or it can be very difficult for you.”_

_Fuck no. I glared and opened my mouth, biting down hard on his hand. I expected him to let go, to hiss in pain, to give me a chance to run. He gasped, sure, and stared in shock for a moment at the sight of my teeth in his hand. Then his eyelids got heavy and his cheeks flushed. What the fuck?_

_“Wow,” He breathed and then met my gaze. “Lebhaft!”_

_I glared at him as his hand quickly swung back and he backhanded me across the face. Hitting the ground hard, I coughed and looked up at him, fear making me freeze. He kicked me onto my back and pressed his boot into my sternum. I tried to hit him, but he dug his boot in harder and grabbed my arms, zip-tying my wrists together. He pulled me up like I weighed nothing and quickly shoved me into the passenger's seat of the SUV. I shouted at him to let me go, called him a piece of shit, an asshole, and a coward until he finally had enough and reached over, put his hand on my face and slammed my head into the window. I cried out, feeling like my brain got scrambled, and things got fuzzy as he drove off._

The slam of a door and boots thumping down the stairs drew my attention, and I saw Strade heading towards me leisurely. He came to a stop a few feet away from where I was sitting and grinned at me. That fucking smile... I couldn't believe I let myself fall for it. “Hey buddy,” He greeted lightly. “Finally awake, huh?”

I glowered at him, wanting to punch that stupid fucking look off his face. “What is going on? Where did you take me?”

“You don't remember?” He chuckled. “We were chatting at the bar. You were so sad, and I thought to myself, ' _I would love to get this know this person better_ '. So, I brought you home with me!”

I shifted, trying to free my wrists as my heart began pounding in my chest. _What do I do?_ Trying to stay calm, I said, “Look, Strade... I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?” He raised an eyebrow, that dopey smile still firm on his lips. “No, no, there's no misunderstanding, I know what I'm doing. We have a big day ahead of us, but before I forget; are you hungry?”

Hungry? Was he fucking serious? I didn't answer for a moment and he just continued to stare at me with that same gaze, so I shook my head. “No, I don't want anything to eat.”

“Eager to get started, too, eh?” He stepped a bit closer and pulled out the same large knife from the bar out of its holster on his hip. The fear I'd felt upon waking in this basement returned and I squirmed, trying fruitlessly to back away and twisting my wrists to attempt to loosen the rope.

God, this was really happening. “Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

He chuckled again, far too enthusiastic for the situation. “Well, your clothing is in the way.”

I tried to protest again, wiggling when he brought the knife towards me. There was no point, though, and he tore my sweater off and quickly ripped the meagre little leggings I had been wearing. I whimpered pathetically, any bravado I thought I had was gone, and before he could cut my shirt off, I begged, “Please, please, I'll do anything you want!”

He paused, his eyebrow raising with intrigue. “Really? Anything?”

I took a deep shaky breath and nodded at him, “Yes, a-anything. Please...”

Strade took a couple steps back and leaned against his workbench, one foot crossed over the other. He tapped the knife against his bottom lip casually as he regarded me. The anticipation of waiting for him to make a damn decision was going to send me into a panic attack, and then the grin returned, and I began to realize that a smiling Strade was a dangerous Strade. “Alright.”

Oh my god, I breathed in relief when he circled behind me and untied the rope around my wrists. When he was back in front of me, he waved the knife at me to remind me that he still had the advantage, “Take off the rest of your clothes, do not stand up.”

“Underwear, too?” I whispered once my shirt was off and I had finished removing the ruined leggings.

“You can keep them on, for now.” He agreed easily. Then he crouched down in front of me and flipped the knife, so he was holding the blade and the handle faced me. “Take it.”

Take it? What kind of sick trick…? “T-Take it?”

He nudged it a bit closer and nodded, “Yeah, take it.” I waited a moment before I did as he asked, grasping the handle hesitantly, trying to prepare for the punchline. “Now, cut yourself.”

My gaze shot from the knife to his eyes. “What?”

“Cut yourself.” He repeated, leaning away just slightly.

I... I could cut _him_. I could swing quickly, catch him off guard, hurt him enough that I could run and have a chance to escape. I looked up at him and noticed the flush to his cheeks, the eager look in his eyes, and the slightly twitchy smile on his lips. That's exactly what he was expecting. I'd never get away with it. I pulled the blade out of his grasp gently and brought it down to my leg. My hand was shaking, so I took a deep breath and gripped the handle tighter. I dragged the knife up my thigh, the skin parting easily and blood running down warmly. I gasped, my head cloudy, and my leg throbbing violently. Then I whined and the pain started, and then the panic as I watched. I didn't mean it to be so deep. I fucked up. I was shaking, tears dropped down my cheeks. When I looked up at Strade, he was staring at the wound, looking sickly excited. “I-Is that good?”

“More.” Is all he said.

More? I hesitated only a second before he met my gaze sharply and I nodded. “O-okay.” I moved the knife to my other leg and started a more careful cut. I could hear Strade breathing heavily as he watched.

“Come on, you can do better than that.” He encouraged. “Deeper.”

Oh god, he was really getting off on this. Adrenaline coursed through me and the shaking of my limbs increased, my hands unsteady as I pushed the knife into my leg, groaning at the pain.

“Your arm now.” Strade ordered, his voice fevered and rushed. My hands were shaking almost violently, and I looked back up at him, pleading him to stop this. I couldn't do it anymore, I already felt like I was going to throw up or pass out. “Just a little more, haustier. I'll let you go if you do.”

Let me go? I stared at him, trying through my tears to get a read on him... One more cut and he'd really let me go? I brought the knife up to my arm and held it there, shaking, trying to get the courage. I... I couldn't do it. It hurt so much, and my legs... I couldn't walk if I wanted to in this state. “I-I can't.”

“No?” He asked, his eyes pitying. “Can't handle anymore?”

I sobbed, the pain in my legs almost unbearable now that I was paying attention to it. Quicker than I could react, Strade bent down and swiped the knife from my hand. Then he was behind me again, wrenching my arms back and retying the rope. “Wait! Please, I'll do it!”

“Too late, I'm afraid,” He told me, coming back to my front. “But don't worry about it, I'll take care of the rest.”

I tried to protest but he shot me a charming smile and then swung his arm down, stabbing the knife into my leg deeply. I doubled over, my eyes squeezed shut, a scream tearing from my throat. The pounding in my ears returned, the rushing of blood in my head, fingers numbing, stomach turning, excruciating pain radiating from where he held the knife in my leg. Then, as soon as it started, he pulled the knife back out and wiped it on his pants before returning it to the holster. My vision was going black around the edges, but I could see and feel the blood pouring from my wounds, and vaguely heard Strade coo at me.

“Awe, look at how much you're bleeding.” He mocked, not looking upset about it at all. He looked positively delighted, his eyes heavy lidded and chest heaving. I tried to focus on what he was saying, to stay with it, but the darkness was becoming more pronounced and I was dizzy though I was still seated. He clicked his tongue and I heard him say, “You're not going to last long like this. Would you like me to stitch it up for you?”

He was smiling surprisingly softly, and I blinked rapidly to try and stay awake. I couldn't stop crying, my eyes stinging; I didn't want him to touch me, didn't want him anywhere near me with a needle, but there was so much blood. I didn't want to die. I managed to nod and whimpered with a sob, “Please...”

“Great!” He clapped his hands and stood, walking to the cabinet behind him and pulling out a first aid kit. He knelt next to me and pulled out a needle and thread, expertly threading it before he flashed his teeth. “This is probably going to hurt.”

I didn't even get to prepare when he pressed the needle into my skin, humming to himself as he quickly and efficiently started stitching me up. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut, but the pain really was minimal compared to what I'd already endured. He had moved on to my other leg before I knew it and then I was shaking again by the time he said, “Almost.... Done!”

Thank god... Please, please let it be over. I opened my eyes and saw Strade holding a bottle and a small cloth. “Can't forget to disinfect. An infection would be unpleasant for you.” I tried to curl my legs up, repeating several ‘ _no, no, no’s!’_ which went ignored. He poured the bottle carelessly onto my legs and I cried out, the alcohol sizzling on the wounds, my legs twitching with the pain. “There, feel better?” He seemed calm, finally, making a show of smoothing out his clothing and running a bloodied hand through his hair. I focused on taking deep breaths, but didn't answer him, not that he really cared. He bent down cupped my cheek, what I could only call, affectionately. “I'll take that as a yes... I've decided to be good; I want to make this last, really make it an experience. So, get some rest, Ellie, and I'll see you in the morning.”

Standing back up, he stretched his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied groan. Then he walked up the stairs, still humming to himself cheerfully. The door closed and I was plunged into darkness. He just left? “Wait! Strade!” I called out, terror filling my body as I tried to make sense of my surroundings. What was I supposed to do? Just fall asleep, naked and cold on his basement floor? Oh, this was so bad. I moved my legs, trying to get comfortable, and the stretch and pull of the angry red marks made me grimace and whine with pain. _Okay, you’re never going to survive this if you don’t get some rest. Just a little bit. Then we’ll figure out how to get the fuck out of here._ It wasn’t easy, but I managed to slip into a light slumber.

When I woke up, it was still dark, and I was sweating, my legs were pulsing and hot and aching. It wasn’t a dream, damnit. _Think, think, think_. My eyes adjusted slowly, and I took in the room. How could I survive this? I twisted my wrists, and gasped when they actually slipped a bit. My struggling must have loosened them! I almost sobbed in relief, slipping my wrists out the binding after a bit more tugging. They felt raw, and I rubbed them gently, getting the blood flowing again. I was out, which meant now I could get up, and would have to be careful and thoughtful about my next moves. I moved onto my knees, gritting my teeth to stop from crying out when my stitches pulled, and I worried about popping them.

Once I was on my feet, I gingerly took a step forward, finding that it didn’t add to the discomfort I already felt. First thing’s first, food. I hadn’t eaten since a couple hours before I went to the Mule, and I was starving. I couldn’t expect to run or fight without sustenance. I moved to the fridge and pulled the door open, the bright light almost blinding me. I focused, and immediately almost threw up. There were rows of cheap Tupperware in the fridge, and I could see inside some of them. Organs, _oh god,_ hearts, and others. I pressed a hand to the mouth and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. _Calm down, he’s sick, you know this. Get over it,_ I talked myself down and then opened my eyes again, back on track. There was also beer, which wouldn’t be the worst idea, and a couple of sandwich bags with what appeared to be steak inside. Would he notice if I took some? _Survive, Ellie, that is the priority._ I took a beer, pressing it close to my stomach so I could open it with as little sound as possible. I was so thirsty, I downed it in seconds. It was cheap beer, but I immediately felt better.

Eat. I pulled out the baggie of what I hoped to god was steak and examined it. It smelled right, so I steeled myself and took a bite. A little tough, but better than nothing. I quickly finished it and put the trash into a bin that was off to the side, praying he wouldn’t look. I was feeling so much better already. _What next?_ I glanced at the counter with all the tools. Find a weapon? I wanted out of here, but I couldn’t fool myself into thinking I was quick enough to attack Strade before he noticed. Even if I wanted to sneak attack him, I’d have nowhere to hide a weapon…

I turned to the stairs… Did I dare? Taking soft steps towards them, I glanced up, seeing the door still shut but no sliver of light peeked through the bottom. Maybe he was asleep? My heart was pounding when I stepped on the first step, and my leg protested at the use of the muscles. I focused on deep breathing; it wouldn’t help me to hyperventilate.

Just as I took my second step, a noise from up the stairs, heavy footsteps, sounded, and I cursed, rushing back to the pole and sitting down, shoving my wrists back into the rope and staring at the stairs, waiting. Minutes went by. Then a few more, and nothing happened. I leaned back against the pole, taking a deep breath.

I was so tired, suddenly.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we continue.
> 
> Ellie will not have a good day.
> 
> Despite the ending, Strade is a bad, bad person.

I jerked awake, blinking at the harsh basement lights. “What? Huh?”

“Still sleeping, Ellie?” Strade asked, leaning back against the counters, wearing the same clothes as the day before, blood stains and all. Did he even shower? There didn’t seem to be blood on his skin or in his hair, but I couldn’t really tell. Did it even matter? Was I fucking losing it? He smiled. “You’re looking… Well rested. Ready for a new day.”

“Noooo,” I tugged at the ropes before remembering that they were loose but knowing there was nothing I could do about it yet.

“How about something to eat? You must be hungry.” He asked, holding up a small packaged energy bar of some kind. I glanced at the fridge quickly before returning my gaze to Strade, suddenly thankful for my midnight snack. I was kind of hungry, but I didn’t want anything from him. I shook my head slowly and bit my lip, looking down at my legs.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, unwrapping the package and taking a big bite. As he chewed, he said, “You know – I feel like we’re really getting to know each other.” He took another bite. “This kind of experience, mmf, it really makes it easy.” He pushed off the counter and stepped closer to me, leaning down. “It’s the adrenaline. You’re excited.” He grinned. “I’m excited.” He leaned even closer, reaching out running his hand through my tangled hair, tugging at the knots. I could smell him again, motor grease and musk. “What we’re sharing here, it’s personal.” I cringed, trying to pull away, horror etched into my expression. He stepped back and broke out into sinister laughter. “You look scared!” His eyes raked up and down my body for a moment before he said, “I know how you’re feeling. You’re all tied up on the floor… Some guy’s basement. Who knows what I’ll do to you? You’re helpless.”

Tears pricked my eyes again, and I fought to keep them from falling. How could someone say this kind of shit with a smile on their face? I just stared up at him; how was I supposed to answer that?

“How about this?” He suggested pleasantly. “I’ll give you a little control over how today goes. It will be completely up to you.” He turned away from me and went back to the tool counter. I almost begged him to let me go again but knew it would fall on deaf ears. It felt like I had made a mistake by not attempting to run the night prior. Strade turned back to me, holding up a hammer in one hand and an electric drill in the other hand. “Here’s your choice. Pick one.”

Oh god, more choices where I don’t win either way. I knew he was deadly serious, so I tried to think logically. It could have very well been one thing that decided if I died today. The hammer seemed a better choice initially until I really thought about it. He could bash my fucking brain with it. The drill… Drill make holes. I tried not to imagine where he would make holes as I motioned with my head towards the drill.

“Oh!” He sounded too pleased and my stomach dropped. “The drill, good choice. I hoped it would be the drill.”

Fuck. He came closer, kneeling on the ground at my feet. I pressed my legs together and tried to curl in on myself. Strade pressed the button on the drill and a loud whirring filled the room. I felt like I couldn’t get a breath in, wanting to see Strade but unable to look away from the drill in his hand.

“Dooon’t…” I whined, jerking when his warm hand grabbed my ankle firmly. “No, no, no! Please!”

He lowered the drill to the top of my foot and pressed down, my scream echoing through the basement. Blood sprayed up onto my face and chest as he tore through me. My whole body thrashed, head thrown back to stare at the ceiling until he pulled the drill out, and I was howling again, tears, drool, and snot running down my face as I went into hysterics. Strade watched me for a second, moaning, before he turned on the drill again, bringing it back to the same spot on my foot. I shrieked, not longer in control of my body as my other leg kicked out violently, trying to escape the agony I was going through. He twisted and turned the drill, more blood spraying out to coat our bodies. My whole body was twitching and shaking, my voice hoarse and panicked. There was white behind my eyes and everything seemed to be turned up to eleven in my brain. My screams, the sound of the drill, the warmth of my blood, my heart pounding, and even Strade laughing as he tortured me. It felt like forever before he finally took the drill out of my foot and tossed it to the side; I couldn’t breath, I was going to pass out. _Don’t you fucking do it, Ellie._

I closed my eyes, my sole focus on controlling my breathing and stopping my tears. He was going to die. One day, if I made it out of here, I was going to kill him. “You… You fucking asshole. How could you-?”

Strade leaned forward, once again reaching towards me. He was breathing hard and when I opened my eyes, I saw his face flushed and excited. He was sick, fucking crazy, and that fact was further cemented when he gently stroked my cheek and encouraged me, “You’re doing so well.”

I managed to get myself under control after a few more moments and got up the courage to look at what he’d done. A loud sob left my mouth as I saw my foot. It was mangled, flesh and muscle curled out in a ground beef kind of way, and there was noticeable hole. Strade followed my gaze and sighed as he looked at the finished result. He touched my toes, moving towards the mutilated appendage. I flinched as he played in my blood, almost caressing my foot lovingly. His fingers moved, running up my legs, smearing more blood up my leg (as if it needed more). He passed by the stitches without doing much more than spreading my blood as he moved towards my inner thighs. I stayed quiet and frozen, feeling more like prey that was in the predator’s sight than ever before. Strade hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time I was in his basement, but he wasn’t smiling now. He looked serious, and that scared me even more if that was possible.

“Hmm,” Strade fondled my thighs for a moment longer before his arms were suddenly around me and I felt the rope on my wrists come loose. I finally moved, bringing my wrists forward, but Strade grabbed my arm before I could do anything and he threw me onto my stomach, my chin smashing into the ground as I landed. I didn’t bite my tongue, but I swore I saw stars.

“What are you doing?” I cried out, scrambling to right myself. I turned to look at him, still trying to crawl away. Strade’s boot came down onto the middle of my back and pressed me down, my face against the cold floor. Was this it? Did I fuck up my chances of survival? Was he going to kill me? I called out his name but choked when he just pressed harder on my back.

Strade chuckled above me, not doing anything but keeping his boot between my shoulders. I got the point; don’t move. When he removed his foot, I stayed still, not even turning my head to see what was going on. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know. He shuffled behind me, and I braced myself for more pain but instead I felt his hands on my hips and he pulled me up. I gasped, my foot dragging on my ground, the stitches in my legs pulling tightly and I squirmed with discomfort. Strade tugged my underwear down and it hit me what he was going to do-.

“Wait!” I pleaded, my voice catching as his fingers prodded at me. I buried my face in my arms, my face red in humiliation as I felt his hands spread my labia apart perversely, examining me with no shame. He pressed a finger inside for a moment before removing it and then I heard him spit and put two fingers against me. This was really happening. Of all things he’d done, and he was doing this now… I couldn’t even find it in me to cry anymore. His finger left me, and I heard a jingle of a belt, and then what could only be his prick was pressing into me.

“Noo,” I tried, grunting in pain when he suddenly thrust hard, pushing me forward a little. _Ow._ His hand grasped the back of my neck and his other hand gripped my hip tightly. It was too much, I couldn’t adjust, but he kept going; a hard, rough pace that pushed my body up, forearms scraping the floor harshly. I cried out, unable to stop from reacting to him. I whimpered a pathetic, “Please…”

Strade grunted and laughed. “That’s right, liebe. Beg me.”

“Stoop,” I wailed, my cries going unanswered as Strade kept up his assault, moaning loudly and panting as he worked towards his own end. He finally let out an animalistic growl and went still above me, his grip on my neck not losing its strength. I laid still, not wanting to excite him any more but my hands and shoulder shook with exertion and fear as I waited.

He sighed, letting go of me finally and pulling back. My body fell and I curled up on myself, ignoring the pain in my legs and wrapping my arms around my middle. Strade stared at me and chuckled again, “I could get used to that.” It almost sounded like praise, but I closed my eyes, pretending that I wasn’t there anymore, that I couldn’t feel wetness gathering beneath me. Strade moved and I heard, “Be good, Ellie.”

I didn’t even move, didn’t bother to notice that he hadn’t tied me back up. I didn’t have the energy, didn’t even try to find an escape, slipping into an exhausted sleep.

Something brought me back, it might have been pain. I wasn’t curled on my side anymore and my whole body was trembling with pain and cold. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs. Light footsteps, though, not Strade’s. I sat up and quietly moved backwards, keeping my eyes on the dark stairs. There was a soft clicking and then the little bit of light from the window illuminated a body standing in front me. It was a… boy? Fox? What?

He gasped and jumped back, “You’re still alive? Ohhhhh no, I shouldn’t be here.”

“W-Wait,” I called quietly. “Who are you?”

“Me?” He scratched his… Fox ear. “I’m uh, just Ren. Nice to meet you… Kind of, I guess.”

He was jumpy. And he was small, scared looking. I held my hands up in front of me, placating. “Hi, Ren. My name is Ellie. I’m good to meet you.” Ren nodded, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxed slightly. “Ren… I’m really badly hurt. It’s been days.”

“I know,” He looked down, his ears drooping sadly. He suddenly couldn’t meet my gaze.

I tried again to get him back. “Ren, I need help. Please.”

“I can’t let you go.” He said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

I nodded earnestly. I could see him more clearly now; scars covered most of the visible skin on his body and I could see a thick metal collar around his neck. It was pretty understandable that he wouldn’t want to go against Strade. “That’s okay. You’re… You’re not allowed to help, right?”

“Right,” He fidgeted, glancing towards the stairs. “I… Did you- want a glass of water?”

I sighed, it had been another long day of nothing to eat or drink, so it probably would do me some good. “That’d be great, Ren. Thank you.”

“Okay!” He smiled and scampered off for a moment. I heard tap turn on and then off, and then he returned, handing me the glass. “You’re not tied up…”

“No,” I agreed, actually realizing for the first time that I was free. Not that it mattered, really. I took the glass gently and drank it, downing it quickly. I must have been really dehydrated. “He… He hurt me, and then just left.”

Ren glanced down at my foot, head tilting. “I could… I could help with that a little.”

He walked away again, and I heard the tap turn on again. A moment later he came back with a cloth and a med kit. I stayed still and quiet as I dabbed and cleaned the wound as best he could. Then he sprayed some kind of disinfectant spray and looked up at me with a sad smile, “I can’t wrap it… He’ll know I was here.”

“That’s okay,” I said quietly. “It already feels better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” He smiled again and hurried to put everything back.

“Ren,” I said when he came back. “Is… Is he going to kill me?”

His ears dropped again, and he fidgeted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. He didn’t tie you up, that could be good or bad. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

I looked down and nodded. I couldn’t expect him to do more than he’d already done. We were no match for Strade. He was bigger and stronger than both of us. And now I knew that if I tried to escape, there was someone else in the house that would probably alert Strade. I leaned against the wall, losing hope that I’d find an escape. My eyes closed and I drifted back to sleep.

The light to the basement clicked on and I opened my eyes, once again hearing Strade’s footsteps stomp down the stairs. He certainly wasn’t light footed. I didn’t move as he walked towards me with a smile on his face. It was much more similar to the one he wore at the bar. That either meant really good news, or really horrible news. I braced myself.

“Morning, Ellie.” He greeted, his arms crossing. His eyes grazed my foot and worked their way up as if he was examining me. “You’re still in pretty good shape. That doesn’t happen often." He stepped closer and crouched down in front of me, not at all worried that I could have attacked him if I wanted to, now that I was untied. It was like he knew I wouldn’t try… I just wanted to leave. “I really should finish you off.” My heart thumped loudly when he suddenly frowned. “But… Ugh, I just don’t want to.”

No way. “You… You’re going to let me go?”

Strade laughed heartily, reaching forward to put his hands in my armpits. He stood and pulled me up with him, standing me in front of him. One of his hands went into my hair much like the previous day, and he pet me affectionately. “Of course not, meine haustier. I have a better idea.”

I looked at him in confusion as he let go of me. Another trick? “W-What idea?”

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me?” He suggested, holding out his hand. “We’ll get you a nice hot shower, bandage up that foot, and have something to eat.”

I stared at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Would you rather I just kill you?” He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming joyously.

“N-No,” I shook my head and after another moment, placed my hand in his. My heart was beating hard, confusion making me fearful. There’s no way he was actually bringing me upstairs… But he led me to the stairs, one hand going around my waist as he assisted me up the flight. Sunlight shined bright as we entered… A completely normal looking house.

What? He lived in a normal house. A clean, tidy, suburban house with a partially open concept layout. I could see into the living room, a cream leather couch sitting against the wall… Plants in pots, and paintings on the wall. Was I hallucinating?

Strade didn’t say anything as he led me down the hall and turned into a small bathroom. It was clean, too. I truly expected Strade to live in squalor, though the basement really wasn’t in bad shape. It was just… The things that happened down there, how did he pay for all of this? Someone like him couldn't have a normal job... He left me standing by the sink while he turned on the shower. I nearly cried as the steam filled the room. How long had it been since I’d showered? Now that the prospect of being clean was in front of me, I felt the grime on my body, the tingling in my scalp from oil and grease.

“Shower, liebe,” He ordered, gesturing to the shower. “I’ll bandage you up when you’re done.”

I moved slowly. Was he going to drown me? I stepped into the shower, my legs smarting viciously as the warm water hit my injuries. It took a few minutes of standing there before I adjusted enough to continue. I put my head under the spray, the water felt heavenly and I sobbed happily. I saw a soap bar and picked it up, gingerly washing my skin, being extra careful around my legs and foot. Then I picked up the generic shampoo and washed my hair twice to get the gross feeling out of it. I never wanted to leave, but I turned and looked through the sheer curtain, seeing Strade standing at the counter, watching me. He wouldn’t let me stay much longer; I just knew it. With a heavy sigh, I turned off the shower and stepped out into Strade’s waiting arms. He held a towel and I tried not to flinch as he personally dried me off. If I stayed quiet and still, he wouldn’t get excited, and hopefully I could get through this unscathed. When I was dry, Strade sat me on the toilet and began to tend to my foot. He cleaned and bandaged it and then led me out of the room, the towel wrapped tightly around me. We went into the living room and he sat me down on the couch. Again, I almost sobbed. It was so comfortable.

Strade sat on the coffee table in front of me and lifted something metal into my line of vision. It looked like… I snapped my gaze to his, “What is this?”

He didn’t answer right away, just smiled at me, opening the clasp and bringing it towards me. It snapped shut at the back of my neck and I gasped at how heavy it was. What was happening? Before I could really let panic set in again, he said, “It looks good on you, Ellie.” He leaned closer, smelling my clean hair before he said seriously, his breath warm on my ear, “It’s electric. Probably a good idea not to step outside.” He leaned back and sighed, his gaze almost loving and I stared at him in horror. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you. Ren!”

A moment later, Ren came into the room, his ears low. When he looked up and saw me, his eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. “Y-Yes, Strade?”

“This is Ellie.” Strade said pleasantly. “Ellie, this is Ren. She’s going to be staying with us.”

“N-Nice to meet you,” Ren said carefully, not moving from his spot. I remembered he said he wasn’t supposed to be in the basement, so we definitely couldn't let Strade know that we'd met. I didn’t answer, just kept looking between him and Strade. Was he really going to do this?

Strade looked at me again and sighed happily, “We’re going to have so much fun together.”


End file.
